Saved by an Angel
by Casia Gomez
Summary: When Dean was five years old and left alone with Sam while his dad went out to hunt, he was attacked by a demon after going out for some pie. But he was saved, of course, by an angel. We can guess which angel that was.


**I don't own Supernatural. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was a fairly cool summer's day in 1984. The sky was gray and cloudy, blocking out the sunlight. Dean Winchester, five years old at the time, was left alone with a one-year-old Sam while their father was out hunting.

Dean longingly stared out the window of the motel, wanting to go outside like any normal kid would. He was always advised never to go anywhere alone. _"Stay inside. Don't open the door. Take care of Sammy," _his dad always told him. That's a lot of responsibility for a little boy. Dean barely understood responsibility at that time...much less certain, dangerous, agonizing death.

One thing he understood besides caring for his little brother was pie. His dad didn't exactly buy pies that often, which made them all the more special. Dean glanced over at Sam, who was sleeping on the bed instead of in a crib. When Dean looked back out the window at the green lawn and woods beyond, there was a pie. He didn't give much time to think that it was strange. How could pie possibly be hazardous?

Dean grabbed the room key, slipped out the door silently so he wouldn't wake Sam, and then walked around back for the free pie.

"Strawberry," Dean whispered to himself, approaching the red pie topped with whipped cream. He figured that it was okay since his dad never warned him against pies. Kids always find loopholes.

As he bent over to pick up the pie, he heard footsteps on the grass. He looked all around. Dean couldn't see anybody, but he kept hearing footsteps. He was starting to regret going outside. A scary voice from behind said, "Hello there."

Dean turned around. It was a tall, pale man dressed in all black. His well-groomed hair was shiny black. Even his eyes were like that for just a moment before flicking back to normal human eyes. A demon.

Dean was too afraid to do anything, seemingly paralyzed. Here he was, under three feet tall with no holy water nor salt and faced with a demon. He'd get killed for sure, and Dean was still a little young to comprehend death.

"Is your little brother inside?" the demon sneered, stepping closer to Dean, who took a step back.

"Wh-what do you want?" Dean squeaked.

"Sam, of course," the demon said. He kept moving towards Dean until he had him backed up against the motel. It wasn't a tourist destination, so no one would see Dean get killed or eaten or kidnapped.

"You'll never get him!" Dean yelled in his bravest voice he could muster. He was shaking.

"Do what I say or I'll feed you to my hellhound," the demon hissed.

Poor little Dean was trying his best not to cry despite how afraid he was. Even back then, he would protect Sammy with his life.

"If there's salt, you kick it away," the demon said, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and dragging him around front. "You'll make a break in any pentagrams." He let him go at the door. "How about you disarm anything your father rigged up in there?"

"No," Dean defiantly growled.

The demon pointed a finger and Dean's mind went nuts, like it was being pierced with nails. As Dean was about to scream, the demon clamped his hand over Dean's mouth.

"You get it now?" the demon asked, ending the migrain.

Tears ran down Dean's five-year-old face. "I won't let you in."

Before the demon had the chance to do it again, there was a flash of bright white light. When Dean opened his eyes, the demon was lying dead on the sidewalk.

A man in his early thirties was looking down at him. He wore a trench coat over a suit and blue tie. This was Jimmy Novak's father, Jeffery. His son sure had his father's looks and style, that's for sure.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Castiel," the man—who apparently wasn't Jeffery Novak at the time—said. He turned to leave.

"Wait! You can't just leave after saving me!"

"Why not?" asked Cas, looking back at him.

"Because..." Dean trailed off, unable to think of a good reason. "There's pie?"

"I have no use for pie," Cas said matter-of-factly.

"Why not?" Dean inquired.

Cas shook his head.

Dean ran up to Cas and hugged him. Cas was confused for a moment before patting Dean on the back. "There, there," he said awkwardly at the boy attached to his leg. He was beginning to think that he was sent here as a joke.

"How'd you kill him, anyways?" Dean questioned, looking up at Cas with innocent green eyes.

"I put my hand on his head," Cas remarked. "Now go back inside."

"Okay," Dean said, unlocking the door with his key. One day he wanted to put his hand on a demon's head and kill it. He looked behind him. Castiel was still there. "Thanks for saving my life, Mr. Castiel."

"You're welcome. And, uh..." he reached behind his back and all of a sudden there was the pie, like it magically transported there. Cas held it out for Dean, who took it and then entered the motel room.

Dean set the pie on the counter, locked the door behind him, and exhaled. Sam was still sleeping. He would never tell his dad that this happened, especially about the trench coat man giving him a pie. He'd have to eat it before his dad came back...

* * *

The present-day Dean woke up, mind foggy. He'd completely forgotten about that day. He sat up and forgot about it again, then tried to recall what he dreamed about. It's not always easy to remember dreams at two in the morning, especially when you ate half of a full-grown pie before going to bed. Dean looked out the big front window at the stars in the dark night sky. It was a comforting sight. He laid down, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

Castiel, however, was silently standing in the corner, watching over the Winchester brothers. He always would be no matter what came between them.


End file.
